


the sun ain't shinin' bright

by notthebigspoon



Series: pretty when you cry [3]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should really know by now that eavesdropping is bad business and spying even worse. He should know better than to think that the door adjoining their rooms being slightly open means that he should open said door. But... well, Tim is Tim, as his boyfriends would say, and sometimes he just can't help himself.</p><p>Title taken from Come To Papa by Bob Seger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sun ain't shinin' bright

He should really know by now that eavesdropping is bad business and spying even worse. He should know better than to think that the door adjoining their rooms being slightly open means that he should open said door. But... well, Tim is Tim, as his boyfriends would say, and sometimes he just can't help himself. He creeps to it, momentarily thankful that his men aren't there to reprimand him and nudges the door open just enough to peek.

He's torn between wishing he hadn't and being turned the fuck on. Because Buster is on his knees and elbows, head hanging below his shoulders, moaning raggedly as Pagan fucks him with hard, deep thrusts. His voice is ragged, rough in a way that Tim has never heard it as he rasps out for Pagan to give him more. He's begging and that throws Tim for a loop just as much as seeing him like this does. Buster doesn't beg for anyone or anything. At least, up to now, Tim thought he didn't.

Buster flexes his body, meeting each of Pagan's thrusts by shoving his own hips back, getting the deeper and harder that he was begging for. The moans are unreal and kind of slutty, to be honest, like something out of a porno. Pagan must be good. He sure as hell looks good and Tim's known from accidental locker room flashes that the guy is hung. When he starts thinking about it like that, thinking about them as two guys he sees and works with every day, one of whom is one of his best friends, he realizes that this is so not his business.

He backs away, closes the door as quietly as he can, though he knows that they probably wouldn't hear the door if he'd screamed and slammed it. He closes their side of the door and leans back against it, closing his eyes and panting. He stays like that, not able to hear the noises they're making now but the noises he did hear running in a loop on his mind. He can't get it out of his head, the image of Pagan fucking Buster until his body was shaking, his arms went out from under him and he begged.

“Tim... hon, you okay?” George asks, concern strong in his voice. He's getting bad about that, calling Tim hon, but it's said with an absent kind of affection that Tim can't really be aggravated about. Not that he's capable of being aggravated by anything right now.

“Fine.” Tim mumbles. George gives him a skeptical look before shrugging and going back to unpacking the food that he and Javi had went in search of.

Food is going to have to wait, though. Tim stalks forward, grabs George's shirt and yanks him into a bruising kiss before ripping his shirt off. He backs towards the bed, pulls George down on top of him and yanks George's shirt up. George makes a startled but pleased noise, ducking out of his shirt. He seems to lose interest in asking Tim what's going on, just gets Tim naked and pushes into him, too fast and without enough prep and it feels amazing, Tim begging for more, begging for more of that sting and edge of pain that his men are so good at giving him.

The door of their room opens up and slams shut a moment later. Something hits the ground and Javi rasps out a 'holy shit' that's barely audible over Tim's own moaning. His moaning becomes a non issue when Javi climbs onto the bed, unzips and pushes his dick into Tim's mouth without pushing his jeans down all the way. Tim grips the denim, lifts his head into it as Javi pushes one of the pillows beneath his head. Even when he's fucking Tim's throat, he's taking care of him. Tim would appreciate that if he wasn't so sex drunk right now.

After he comes, things go a little bit fuzzy. He's in a happy space of warm feeling and darkness, only vaguely aware of being moved and water beating down on him, a warm body propping up his own. When he starts coming back to himself, he's dressed in shorts and one of George's t-shirts, curled into his boyfriend's chest while Javi curls up behind him and rubs his hip. When they ask what got that started, Tim just smiles against George's chest and closes his eyes. He's keeping his secret.


End file.
